


Epiphanies Over Croissants and Coffee

by Thats_Amore



Series: Letters to Juliet Verse [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1980s, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Excessive Drinking, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Nationverse, Paris (City), Pining, Pre-Relationship, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thats_Amore/pseuds/Thats_Amore
Summary: In 1985, America offers an inebriated Romano his hotel bed for the night. The next morning, he finally comes to terms with the way he's felt about his friend since they lived together in the 1920s.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Letters to Juliet Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838548
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Epiphanies Over Croissants and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "A Letter to Juliet (Answered by Feliciano)." You might want to read that story first to understand the context of this fic.

_Paris, France, 1985_

America had just finished having a late dinner with Canada and England, and all three nations were returning to the hotel that France had booked for the nations during their world meeting, which was in his house this time. As they entered the lobby of the luxurious hotel, they saw South Italy standing at the front desk, and it looked like he was pleading with the receptionist. America started to walk over to the front desk to see if his old friend needed help, and Canada and England followed him.

“Can’t I just sleep in the lobby? Please?”

“Non, I cannot allow that,” the receptionist said. “You would disturb our other guests.”

Romano groaned. “Well, can’t you give me another key?”

The receptionist shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot. Hotel policy.”

“Cazzo,” Romano grumbled under his breath. He turned to walk away, and then he saw America, Canada, and England standing there. His eyes held a particular glow America recognized from the 1920s whenever he, Romano, and Lithuania had gone to speakeasies and Romano had imbibed more than he should have. When Romano’s scowl turned into a drunken smile and he stumbled towards him, America knew he was in big, big trouble.

“Alfredo! You’ll let me sleep with you, right?”

America’s face heated up with a fierce blush, and Canada started laughing. He heard England muttering something about how it sounded like Romano was “propositioning” him, and that didn’t make it any easier for him to get words out.

“W-what?”

Romano snorted. “I meant I just wanted to stay in your hotel room, idiota. Although…” His face grew contemplative, and he put his hand over America’s tie, rubbing it idly with his fingertips. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you the other way. You’re attractive in an annoying sort of way, so it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice on my part.”

America gulped and reminded himself that Lovino was drunk and didn’t mean anything he was saying. It kept him from saying or doing something wildly inappropriate, but it didn’t make his heart stop pounding.

Canada clapping his hand on his shoulder distracted him briefly. “I’ll see you in the morning, eh?” They often shared hotel rooms, but for this conference, they had been booked into rooms right next to each other.

America smiled uneasily at his brother. “See ya, Mattie.”

Romano yawned and decided to hug him, and England shook his head as he followed Canada towards the elevator. “Good night, Alfred.”

“Night, Artie.” America wasn’t looking at England. He was too busy staring at Romano and smiling as he nuzzled sleepily into his neck. It was kind of cute how Lovino got more affectionate when he was drunk. That probably wasn’t a thought Alfred should be having about a friend, but he’d been having stray thoughts like that ever since Romano lived with him in the 1920s. It didn’t mean anything. And even if it did mean something, Romano was so close to Spain that whatever America felt wouldn’t matter regardless.

“Is that a new cologne you’re wearing?” Romano mumbled. His lips were less than an inch away from his neck, and America tried not to find that too distracting.

“Yeah, it’s something France got me for Christmas. You like it?”

“Smells good on you, bastard.” His arms tightened around America. “You always smell good.”

“You smell nice too,” America said. Right now, he smelled mostly of whatever French wine he had been drinking. Underneath that and some cologne he couldn’t immediately place, Romano smelled like a tomato garden in the summer. It’s not like America spent a lot of time deliberately sniffing Romano, but the familiar scent made him feel oddly nostalgic. He was warm, and he was a friend who gave good hugs, but those weren’t the only reasons America enjoyed having him in his arms.

America sighed. “I should probably help take you up to my room, huh?”

Romano smirked at him. “You sound kind of eager for it.”

America laughed and pulled out of the hug so he could walk towards the elevator. Romano clung to his arm, but it was probably just for balance. He was pretty wasted right now.

America pushed the up button on the elevator and stared at the elevator doors. “Honestly, it’s been a long day for me, and I’m still pretty jet lagged from the flight over here. I could use some shuteye.”

“Me too,” Romano said quietly. He closed his eyes and hummed. “These world meetings are always so dumb. It’s not like we ever get shit accomplished.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to get to see old friends again.” America didn’t get to see Romano much outside official meetings since he lived in Italy and America was usually somewhere in his own country. They kept in touch via phone calls, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person.

Romano gave him a small smile. “I like seeing you too, you sentimental idiota.”

The elevator doors opened, and America grinned as he and Romano got inside. America pushed the button for his floor, and Romano leaned in to him as the elevator started to move.

“You can take the bed,” America offered. “You’ll probably have a hangover tomorrow, so the last thing you’ll need is to get bad sleep on that little couch they have in the room.”

“You don’t mind getting crappy sleep when you’re jet lagged?”

America shrugged. “Not really. I’d rather make sure you get decent sleep. The hero always looks out for other people.”

Romano snorted sarcastically. “The ‘hero’ will have to probably carry me out of this elevator. I’m practically falling asleep standing up.”

The elevator doors opened, and America scooped Romano up like it was no big deal, which it wasn’t when America was strong enough to pick up a buffalo as a toddler. “Challenge accepted.”

Romano giggled and hooked his arms around America’s neck. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“You’re not the first person who’s thought so.” He didn’t mind being thought of as silly as long as people took him seriously when it mattered. Romano was his friend, and he knew there was more to him than just goofy antics like this.

America frowned when they got to the door. “I’ll have to set you down so I can get my key.” He should have remembered that earlier.

Romano let out a sigh. “I’ll try not to collapse immediately.”

America carefully propped him up against the wall, and Romano didn’t instantly collapse. When America opened the door, Romano walked through it under his own power, and America felt oddly disappointed. It was fun carrying him around, even if it was only because Romano said he’d be too tired to carry himself.

America turned on a light, and Romano headed straight towards the bed. He removed his shoes and socks as America set the alarm clock so they would have time to eat and change before the world meeting continued the next day.

Romano shrugged off his suit jacket, and he got under the covers. America smiled at him fondly as he placed the wastebasket next to his bed. “I’m gonna take a shower now. Think you’ll be okay on your own?”

Romano’s hazel eyes were squinting up at him tiredly. “I’ll be fine, Alfredo. You don’t have to worry about me so much. This isn’t the first time I’ve been drunk like this.”

“I know.” Some of those times were with him back in the 20s, and the old feelings from that time were returning to him. Sometimes when he had said good night to Lovino, he lingered for a moment like he was planning to say or do something else. But any of the things he thought of saying or doing would break their friendship into pieces.

Romano yawned and closed his eyes. “Buona notte, caro.”

The moment had passed, and Alfred gave him a nervous smile as he stepped away. He was glad Romano was almost asleep now so he couldn’t see how unsettled America was feeling right now. “Good night, Lovino.”

Romano breathed slowly and gently, and America figured he must be asleep. He went to his suitcase to get pajamas along with fresh boxers, and then he headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After he returned from the bathroom, Romano was still sound asleep, and America went over to the couch and attempted to fall asleep too. It took him a long time, and not just because the couch was a little too small for him to comfortably rest on.

* * *

The next morning, America awoke before his alarm went off. He sat up, and his mouth went dry as he glanced over and saw Romano sleeping in the bed.

“Holy shit, it’s not fair for one person to be so beautiful,” America murmured. The sunlight was streaming in at an angle from the window, and it made Romano glow like he was an angel. A grumpy angel who was scowling and would probably let out a stream of Italian curses as soon as he woke up, but an angel nonetheless. His dark brown hair looked so soft America’s fingers were itching to run through it, and his bare, tan shoulder peeking over the blanket was oddly mesmerizing. At some point in the middle of the night, he must have taken his shirt off, which meant he was at least half undressed under that blanket. There was an ache in America’s stomach, but it wasn’t one that could be satiated by an obscene amount of bacon cheeseburgers. The ache was for Romano, and it would only begin to be filled by crawling under the covers and pulling Romano’s half-naked (or possibly completely naked) body against his.

“What the fuck am I thinking?” America asked himself. He couldn’t crawl into bed with his friend to cuddle him like he was his boyfriend, and he felt creepy that he wanted to. America stood up, took some clothes with him to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth before he changed. He needed to get out of this room, get some fresh air, and get his head screwed on straight again.

Getting out of the hotel room helped a little, but America was still thinking about Romano and the way he looked like a goddamn painting when he was asleep in the bed. He kept thinking about that as he walked across the street into a little pastry shop, as he stood in line behind a few other customers, and as he bought croissants and café au laits to go. Frequently, other nations and his own government officials accused America of being too scatterbrained, but now his mind was fixated only on Romano. He wished he could be as easily distracted as everyone thought he was.

Even running into Russia in the lobby couldn’t distract him from his confusing thoughts about Lovino. When Russia said good morning and called him comrade, America couldn’t even make some quip about not being a commie like he normally would. He could only offer a bland smile, and Russia seemed concerned.

“Amerika, is everything alright? You aren’t engaging in our usual banter.”

“I’m fine, Russia. Just in a weird mood this morning, I guess.”

Russia nodded and gave him a small, understanding smile. “I hope you feel better soon, da? The meetings aren’t as fun when we don’t get to antagonize each other.”

America snorted and pushed the button to go up. “I’ll be back to my normal heroic self by the time the meeting starts, Russkie. Don’t you worry.” America wasn’t sure if that was actually true. He hadn’t felt particularly heroic last night when Romano asked to sleep in his room and America blushed so badly Canada and England noticed, and he felt even less heroic after waking up this morning and thinking about his friend in a way he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

Russia laughed at him, and he emitted an aura that might have intimidated others but didn’t bother America. “That’s good to hear, comrade.”

America rolled his eyes in fake annoyance and got on the elevator. When the doors closed and Russia could no longer see him, his face creased into a worried frown. Why the hell was his brain doing this to him? Romano was his friend, and only his friend! He probably liked Spain, or maybe Belgium, who he was also extremely close to. He certainly didn’t like America that way.

Alfred was still worried about that by the time he left the elevator, but he smiled uncontrollably when he walked over to his room and heard the sound of an alarm clock blaring and Romano yelling colorful Italian curse words. Lovino was adorable when he was annoyed, and it made his heart feel lighter.

When he unlocked the door and entered the room, Romano was standing in only his navy boxer briefs and shaking the alarm clock furiously. “This fucking machine is making my head explode! How the hell do you turn it off?!”

America laughed and walked over to him, forcing himself to ignore the way Romano looked really damn hot in underwear that didn’t leave that much to the imagination. “It’s just a button, dude.” He set the coffees and croissants down on the night stand and pressed a button at the top, easily turning off the machine. “See? Nothing to it.” He gave Romano a teasing smile, and Romano glared at him grumpily. He reminded America of a cat who was in serious need of gentle scratches on top of the head.

“I could’ve figured that out myself,” Romano insisted. “It’s just my stupid headache making it hard to think.” He sat down on the bed and picked up one of the coffees. “Thanks for getting coffee by the way.”

“There’s a couple croissants in there for you too. I got them from this little place across the street that looked good.” America went over to his suitcase, remembering that he had packed a bottle of Tylenol for his trip just in case he needed to use it.

When America returned to the bed, Romano was holding one of the croissants. “The breakfast is helping a little. I just wish the light wasn’t so fucking bright in here.”

America passed over two Tylenol capsules. “This ought to help too.”

Romano took the Tylenol and rinsed them down with coffee. He managed to smile weakly at America afterwards. “I could kiss you right now.”

America laughed, and if it sounded strained and a little too loud, Lovino must have been too hungover to notice. America picked up his coffee and took out a croissant before he joined his friend on the bed. Privately, he thought he could kiss Romano too, but he actually would have meant it. Romano had just been joking.

Lovino continued eating his breakfast, and he made a few more remarks about his hangover. America listened as he ate and drank his coffee, but he wasn’t picking up on any of the words. The sound of Romano grumbling in annoyance was weirdly soothing to him, and America was distracted by other things. Not just the obviously sexy things like his bare legs crossed casually at the ankle or the light dusting of hair on his chest, but cute stuff about his mannerisms too. America noticed how he nibbled at his croissants rather than taking huge bites like America would, how he’d set down whatever he was holding to gesture with one hand while he was saying something, and how he’d lick his lips after taking a sip of coffee to ensure he didn’t miss a single droplet. Alfred also found himself staring at Lovino’s eyes, fascinated by the hazel color and the flecks of green and golden brown. America became so hypnotized by Lovino that he was eating at half the speed he normally would.

There was something inside Alfred that was making it difficult to eat. Physically, his chest felt tight, he was a little dizzy, and there were a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Emotionally, he felt confused, but also strangely peaceful at the same time. He would gladly eat breakfast with Romano every morning if he could. If he had the choice, he would live with Romano again, and this time he would get to kiss and cuddle him whenever he wanted to instead of holding himself back all the time. Being around Romano made America so stupidly happy, and he wanted to keep feeling stupidly happy for the rest of his life.

The rest of his life… just being around Romano made him happy… America froze like a statue, unable to take another bite.

Lovino noticed, and he stopped eating too. His brows drew down into a concerned frown. “Is something wrong, Alfredo?”

_I love you. I’m never gonna stop loving you. I want to hug you, and kiss you, and have sex with you. I want us to get married and raise a puppy or a kitten or a baby if that wouldn’t be too complicated because of who we are. If I can’t have that, I want to stay here in this little hotel room with you forever. I just want to be with you for the rest of my life in whatever way I can._

America shook his head, plastering on a smile that he hoped would fool Lovino. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You stopped eating for a minute there. That isn’t like you.”

The unsaid confession was dancing on the tip of his tongue, but Alfred kept lying. “I think I spaced out, that’s all. Maybe the jet lag is affecting me worse than I thought it would.”

Romano snorted and shot him an amused grin. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let me have the bed then, idiota.”

America shrugged. “Maybe not.” Maybe he loved Lovino too much to let him sleep on an uncomfortable couch, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything. America had finally admitted to himself how he truly felt, but nothing about his situation had changed. With the way Spain flirted with him all the time and Romano let him get away with it, there was a good chance they were in love and would get together soon. Even if Romano didn’t have his heart set on Spain, it seemed impossible that he would love America the way America loved him. Alfred couldn’t risk losing a friendship like theirs on such a thin margin of hope.

Romano went back to eating, and so did America. America was sadder now, but he hid that for his friend. His sadness wasn’t Romano’s fault, so America wouldn’t burden him with it.

Lovino picked out an outfit for the day and headed off to take a shower. America turned on the television, but even the most interesting program couldn’t have taken America’s mind off his recent realization. He settled on some movie, and he let the flow of French dialogue pass over him without comprehension like it was a language he had never encountered before. He wouldn’t have been able to process a movie with the characters speaking English any better.

The shower shut off, and America put on the suit jacket and tie he hadn’t bothered with earlier. He idly continued to watch the television as Romano dried his hair and got dressed. When he came out of the bathroom, America smiled at him. “Almost ready to go?”

Romano nodded. “I just need to put on some shoes, and then we can leave.”

Romano wasn’t looking at America as he put on his socks and shoes, and this morning, America felt less guilty about automatically checking him out in the suit than he would have before. Lovino looked hot in his well-tailored suits, and it was much less creepy than staring at him when he was almost naked. Considering the fact that he was in love with Romano and always would be, Alfred didn’t think it made him a bad person to check him out as long as he didn’t get caught doing it.

By the time Romano was ready to go, America was turning off the television. He followed Romano out the door, and his grin looked almost as bright as normal. Romano didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, and America hoped he never would. He hoped he could maintain this façade for as long as he needed to, for both his and Romano’s sake. For now, faking a cheerful smile was all America could do.


End file.
